


memory mixed with desire

by sabinelagrande



Series: Blood Money [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Backstory, Dark!Erik, Dark!Raven, F/M, Genocide, Murder, No Seriously When I Said Dark I Meant It, Retribution, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's back to work for Erik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memory mixed with desire

**Author's Note:**

> Please be advised: this story contains discussions of genocide and revenge killing, including fetishizing of revenge killing. Tread with caution.

Things changed, after the war. Erik would like to believe that all of the changes were for the better; Erik would also like to be an optimist, but it hasn't happened yet.

The genocide, even by the relatively lax moral standards of the state, was abhorrent, unimaginable, too much to even be comprehended or talked about; Erik comprehended it very well, but the state was curiously reluctant to let the survivors speak. Trials were held and leaders hanged, the war machine dismantled; but very soon, the state ran up against a strange problem: there were too many guilty.

The killings had been perpetrated by a whole government, not a handful of individuals. Trying every single one of them went against too many of the state's policies; it wasn't how things were _done_ , how they'd ever been done. Justice, particularly retribution for murder, had always been a personal issue, something to be conducted between people, between families, in adherence to the law but without the state's interference. This bore no resemblance at all to that; it was a slaughter, not a simple murder, completely impersonal.

The only solution was to _make_ it personal. 

So the remaining war criminals are marked. They're not imprisoned, they won't be executed; it's just that it's not illegal to kill them. It's encouraged, really; some of them even come with a bounty attached, money and rank both. The targets are well aware, but fleeing is an admission of guilt all on its own, the quickest way to let your nearest and dearest, the whole of polite society know that you are a murderer. All they can do is sit there, waiting to be picked off.

Erik's grown fond of this arrangement. His only regret is that he won't be able to get to all of them in time.

Erik earned almost all of his rank from this system, which was no mean feat. From what he understands, he's become something of a living legend, alternately a boogieman and a folk hero. He's something to scare children with, something like the Wolverine, and Erik finds it all darkly amusing, the idea that he's too bad or too good to be true. Then again, maybe he wouldn't believe in himself either; he wouldn't believe in the Wolverine if not for the three clear scars across his wife's stomach.

It's rainy today, foggy, but he still lights up a cigarette as he leaves his latest target's house. This was an easy one, no family to get in the way, no security to speak of; that'll change soon, once word gets out he's back in business. Just because it was easy doesn't mean it wasn't important, or at least symbolic; this is the first time since Shaw, and Erik hadn't even known until now whether he was going to keep on with it, now that his life's work was complete. Most of the ones before were directly related to Shaw, necessary steps towards bringing him down. Now it's for its own sake, and Erik wasn't sure how he'd feel about that. 

As it turns out, he feels just fine. This bastard was fairly influential, and bringing him down means two ranks and some money- Erik doesn't care how much, Erik never cares, usually ends up giving most of it away.

But it also means he's got a problem to solve.

He's stopped feeling bad about it, because it's just a reaction he can't control, an unfortunate side effect that has no impact on his decisions whatsoever; but no amount of ignoring or rationalizing can stop it, the overwhelming need to get off, to _fuck_.

He thinks about going down to Charles just like this, spots of blood on his cuffs, smelling like gunpowder and death; it's very appealing, but he's doing such careful, fine work with Charles, work that's nowhere near done. Instead, he goes home, hoping Raven's there; Raven's seen, Raven already understands, Raven _wants_ it.

He's lucky; she's in the kitchen when he comes in, and she only has to see the look in his eyes before she crooks her finger at him. "C'mere."

Erik sheds his clothes as he goes, surging towards her, and she catches him. He kisses her wildly, his hand fisted in her hair, and she digs her fingernails into his skin, clutching him to her. After a few moments, he breaks away and spins her around, shoving her over the counter, and she spreads her legs without hesitation.

Raven groans as he pushes into her; he isn't gentle about it, fucking into her with short, hard thrusts, but she doesn't care. "Tell me," she pants.

"He was screaming," Erik says, moaning as she pushes back against him. Erik doesn't torture them, none of them but Shaw; unless he needs information, he just puts them down methodically and quietly, even though it's much more than they deserve. Raven isn't like that, isn't satisfied by it in the same way that Erik is. She'd never kill for sport, but she likes it, drawing it out, making them pay. She likes so much that it almost makes Erik like it; it's worth indulging her just to hear the moans she makes when he tells her about it. "Kept begging me not to do it. Said he'd give me anything I wanted to stop. Didn't occur to him that I was going to get everything I wanted anyway."

He grabs her hair, pulling on it hard, just how she likes. "He tried to get away," Erik says, moving faster. "But all he did was back himself into a corner, and all I had to do was walk over." He slips his arms underneath her, pulling her closer, pushing in as deep as he can, and he bends down to whisper in her ear. "And then I put my gun to his forehead."

Raven all but sobs when she comes, bucking back against him, and it's so good that Erik doesn't even try not to follow her, groaning her name. He holds her there for a long moment, his face pressed against her shoulder blade, coming down slowly, lost in it for a while.

She moves underneath him, and he lets her up; she turns, pulling him in to kiss him, running her hands through his hair. "It went okay?"

"Without a hitch." Erik knows there will come a day when it doesn't go well, where it goes badly enough that he doesn't come home; there's something comforting, for her sake and his, about the fact that the first thing she'll do is get vengeance.

It doesn't mean he's not thankful every time that day doesn't come.

"Good," she says, kissing him sweetly. "I'll order dinner."

He isn't entirely sure he can keep his hands off her long enough for it to get here. He thinks about the last time, in Shaw's ridiculously large bed, fucking her over and over, streaks of Shaw's blood marking the crisp white sheets.

Raven snorts. "You're doing that thing again."

Erik startles. "What thing?"

"The one where you look at me and lick your lips a lot," she says, grinning.

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"

She kisses him on the cheek. "Not at all." All of a sudden his appetite seems unimportant; he puts his hands around her waist, hoisting her up and throwing her over his shoulder. "Put me down," she says, laughing.

"I'll put you down," he promises, carrying her into the bedroom, "right where I want you."


End file.
